


equilibrium

by pseudocitrus



Category: Tokyo Ghoul, Tokyo Ghoul:re
Genre: F/M, Gap Filler, Implied/Referenced Sex, Light Angst, Some Nishikimi, Some Touken
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-16 00:22:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5806021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pseudocitrus/pseuds/pseudocitrus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nishiki ponders how it started and what it is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	equilibrium

**Author's Note:**

> bam! a touka/nishiki to satisfy my ridiculous crackship desires :')
> 
> hope you're having a good day!

He isn’t sure how it started, really. Or when.

There’s calendar dates, of course, that he could name. There’s a definite _day that they met, for the first time._

As well as a _day they first fought._

There’s _the day he almost killed the guy that she —_

And sometime later comes _the day she almost killed his girlfriend._

 _“Beautiful,”_ Kimi said at that time. Nishiki remembers how Kimi tried to talk to him about it afterward, how her eyes still looked aglow with Rc cells, how he brushed her off with an eye roll and a _“There’s nothing beautiful about it.”_

It was just Touka, being a brat, as usual.

:::

But then comes _the day they meet again._

And then, after all the relief fades into tension: _the day they fight again._

_The day he comes to work for the cafe again._

_The day that he volunteers to help her out again._

“Of course I’ll search for him,” Nishiki promises, “I’ll do my best,” but even then there’s some acidity in his voice, and maybe a snort.

:::

Time is passing, and he can feel the pendulum swing, pulling them back through the same old shit. Life is circling around all over again.

 _Or maybe,_ he thinks, _it’s just continuing its downward spiral._

Throwing its coils around them. Squeezing the two of them closer, and closer. One night — one night, the constriction feels especially sharp. They’re fighting. Touka’s obsession with making sure the counters are cleaned _just so_ is irritating; and Nishiki won’t stop doing things that raise his rating with the CCG.

“If you don’t care about anything then leave,” Touka snaps, “get the fuck out,” and Nishiki just laughs.

“Fuck you,” he tells her, “I’m never leaving,” and he waits for her return volley, but it never comes. She sucks a breath in but — it never comes out. Her eyes narrow, and then start to glimmer, wet.

A younger Nishiki would have relished this sight. The current one straightens and curses beneath his breath and starts to walk toward her.

“ _Shit._ Touka —”

She shoves him, so harshly that his lower back slams back against the counter. He stumbles, a little, but takes it, and lets her pound her fists into him a little before finally his — chest starts to hurt, a little too much. He grabs her hands.

“Quit it,” he tells her in a mumble. “I’m sorry, okay?”

“Are you serious?” she demands. “Will you seriously never leave?”

“Come on, Touka,” Nishiki sighs. “Of course I will if you get really sick of me.”

She bites her lip. She hesitates, and finally — the volley comes.

“I don’t want you to. Don’t go. Please,” she adds, in a mumble, and this is something that younger Nishiki would have eaten up too. _Touka — begging?_

“Of course I’ll stay,” Nishiki finds himself saying, “it’s not like I want to leave you alone in this hellhole,” and he only realizes that it’s true after he’s said it.

The next thing, too, happens before he’s fully aware of it. One of the tears in Touka’s eye slips free. It rolls down her cheek, and he leans down, and presses his mouth to it.

He’s stunned at himself. _Get back,_ he yells at himself frantically, _what the fuck, get back,_ but Touka — only sighs. And as the next tear falls free, he chases it too, with a motion that could almost certainly this time he called _a kiss._

She is warm. He can practically feel her flush against his lips. She tastes of salt, and — something else. Soft skin. It’s not the kind that literally makes his mouth water but something in his chest surprises him by crying _more,_ and he draws close to the moist line on her cheek, and traces it up with his tongue.

He is still holding her fists, and she unfolds them. Their fingers lace, and then grip. Before he knows it, Touka is shoving him again, and he collides against the counter, and then pushes himself on top of it. He pulls, and one motion later she is on the counter too, on top of him. Her legs part around his waist with a strange ease. Their hands reach, jerky, messy, fast — untying, unbuttoning, unzipping. Holding, smoothing, stroking.

“Are you…sure?” Nishiki asks. He adds, sardonic: “Your precious counters are going to get messy.”

“I’ll clean them myself,” Touka replies. Her voice is just as mocking and just as serious.

There’s only a little more hesitation.

And then — _their first night._

:::

And, _their second._

:::

And, _third._

:::

Still. He isn’t sure how it started, really. Or when.

With Kimi, there was a definite line, a definite label. One day, she was _Plan B;_ and then, suddenly, in the space of a minute, _Girlfriend._

Then again, maybe things weren’t that clean. Maybe, between he and Kimi, the line had started to blur earlier, without him realizing. During their study sessions, maybe — during her nights over.

Maybe things had been just as messy as they are now. The dates blur. In the beginning, it’s almost angry; they claw and clench, stirring up the embers smoldering in the pit of their stomachs, feeling the fire rush in and warm up every part that had gone cold over the solitary months.

After such a long time, the only thing their thrusting makes him think of is his old apartment, and the coffee smell of the cafe brings to mind only the fortress of coffee cans pillared on his desk and windows. One time he wakes up and for a second he is _there,_ and the warmth in this bed is _her_ , and in the haze of things his arms squeeze, drawing her close. He nuzzles her nape, and it’s only then that he realizes that the hair tickling his forehead is dark.

He stiffens, and his hopes that maybe Touka is sleeping are scattered when Touka murmurs, “It’s fine.”

He knows her too well. What she means is _Me too._

:::

Somewhere…

The start of things, and the answer to what they are, is somewhere, hidden. It shouldn’t matter to him, but he — somehow he just — wants to know exactly he’s medicating himself with.

Thoughts of school come back to mind, his old chemistry homework and words like _reaction_. _Catalysis. Precipitates._

There’s _the day he first opens his eyes to watch her, and realizes that hers are always shut._

And, _the day she murmurs a name in her sleep which isn’t his, and smiles when he holds her close._

_The day she wordlessly visits Kamii with him, and they share a canned coffee on an old study table outside._

_The day she stocks canned coffee in the cafe._

_The day he decides to stop drinking it and nags her for her fresh drinks._

_The day he kisses the side of her neck, too much._

_The day she dyes her hair._

_The day he gets contacts._

_The day the murmured name is his._

_The day he looks at her and suddenly thinks — “beautiful.”_

In the end…he gives up. Days pass and pass and their small motions and memories mix together, become so blended that he can’t pick out and define one thing separately from another.

Days pass and pass and in the end there are only a few things that remain for certain.

The bracelet that he still wears.

Her reason for building the cafe.

And that struggled exchange.

_Don’t go. Please._

_Of course I’ll stay._

:::

Just like with Kimi, he isn’t sure how it started, really. Or when.

The days blur. One can’t be chosen for sure.

And…just like with Kimi.

There is a definite day that it ends.

“Where the hell were you?” Touka demands when he finally comes back. It’s been days; he had made certain promises, to alert her about planned absences.

But as soon as she sees his face, her expression softens.

“What happened?” she asks.

Nishiki opens his mouth. “I…”

He trails off, stops. And then he laughs.

It’s…funny, really. Hilarious. He was never sure what about what to call he and Touka, but…the knot in his throat…is one that he knows so well. Back when the words he had to force himself to say were  _I’m breaking up with you._

Life is circling around all over again. Just like back then, he finally manages it. Just like back then, every word stabs.

“I…found him. I found him.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!


End file.
